


The Perils of Dating a Coworker

by velvetjinx



Series: Candids 'verse [3]
Category: American Idol RPF
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-10-27
Updated: 2013-10-27
Packaged: 2017-12-30 15:30:42
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,865
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1020349
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/velvetjinx/pseuds/velvetjinx
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Season 3: That On Air With Ryan Seacrest Interview</p>
            </blockquote>





	The Perils of Dating a Coworker

It wasn't the fact that he was going to be interviewing Simon on live television that had Ryan worried; or, well, not exactly. Because Ryan interacted with Simon on live television on a weekly basis, and it was unlikely that they could say anything worse that the jokes about being gay or crossdressing on AI. Which were, in Ryan's opinion, made all the funnier by the fact that they weren't actually jokes at all; simply truth spoken in the form of jokes, so no-one was any the wiser.

No, it was the fact that Ryan knew the questions which were coming up that made him nervous. They had seemed like a good idea when Ryan had written them - seemed _funny_ , if he was honest - designed to make Si uncomfortable, because there was very little that Ryan loved more than watching Simon squirm, for _whatever_ reason. But now?

Now it was about 30 seconds until they went live, and Ryan was starting to rethink the whole thing. But it was already too late, as the director signaled to him that it was time, and he turned on a wide smile for the cameras.

He knew almost from the second the cameras started rolling that Simon was in one of his playful moods, which meant that whatever Ryan tried to pull on him, Simon was likely to take far enough to offend the censors. Trying not to show his alarm, Ryan got through Simon's intro - managing not to giggle too much over their 'feud' - and held his hand out to greet his friend. Simon immediately went for the hug, which would have been fine, except that Simon _didn't let go_ , instead dragging him onto the sofa while still clinging to him like a giant man-limpet while the crowd's cheers increased in volume.

Finally managing to disentangle himself from Simon's grasp - and off of his lap - Ryan shifted slightly so they were facing each other, noting that Simon immediately moved so his hand was resting against Ryan's knee. He got like this sometimes, Ryan had noticed - not just with him, but with everyone he knew. It was like he was occasionally channeling a touch-starved puppy that needed to constantly be in contact with people. Ryan didn't comment on it, though. To point it out might mean Simon stopped, and since Si wasn't the kind of guy who enjoyed snuggling, Ryan really kinda enjoyed the contact he _did_ get.

All of the tussling and touching did mean, however, that Ryan’s cock had decided to sit up and take some interest in the proceedings. Ryan clasped his hands and dropped them in front of his lap, making a mental note to keep at least one hand there as much as possible without it seeming too obvious. He tried to think cold thoughts, but Simon was still touching him, and he was finding it almost impossible to think of anything other than how close Simon was.

They got through the preliminary banter about Simon's timekeeping and his lack of knowledge about US timezones without too much hassle - although at one point Simon practically _stroked_ his knee, and it was only the knowledge that if he reacted then people were more like to notice that stopped him from jumping like he'd been goosed - but then Ryan made the mistake of telling Simon that he looked tired, which he had commented on the night before.

"No, _you_ looked tired last night; _I_ am tired this morning."

"And why is that?"

Ryan regretted the words as soon as they were out of his mouth, because he knew exactly why Simon looked so tired. He also knew the reason Simon was going to give, which was that he had been out for dinner with Mike from FOX, but that certainly wasn't the whole reason.

The _whole_ reason had more to do with Simon finally tumbling into bed at 1am, waking Ryan - who had already been asleep since around 9.30pm - and giggling incessantly until Ryan had realized that Simon was, in fact, extremely tipsy. And when Simon got tipsy, he got _handsy_ , and this time was no exception. Ryan was still sleep-blurry when Simon's hands started roaming all over his skin, rubbing over ribs and gently tickling his sides, moving up to tweak his nipples, then down to rub at the front of his boxers.

" _Si_ ," he'd whined, moving his hips to try and get more friction, but Simon had just grinned and moved back off the bed. Ryan had squinted, trying to make Simon out through the darkness, and realized that Simon was stripping off the rest of his clothes. A moment later, Simon's hands were back, divesting him of his underwear, and Simon's mouth was on his cock, sucking him to hardness. Ryan had gasped, trying to pull some air into his suddenly empty lungs, and Simon had chuckled around him.

Then Ryan had felt slick fingers prodding and pushing; sliding and stretching; rubbing _just right_ \- all in counterpoint to the wet suction on his cock. Just as it was getting to be the other side of too much, it all stopped. Ryan was aware of a high keening sound through the haze of pleasure, and it took him a moment to realize that it was coming from himself.

Simon had quietened him with a kiss, and then Ryan's world had narrowed to blunt pressure and friction, and Simon's hand on his cock. His legs had wrapped themselves around Simon's waist seemingly of their own free will - Ryan didn't think he could make a single conscious decision at that point - and his nails had dug into Simon's back as Simon thrust harder, deeper, _faster ohgod faster, Simon, please_ , and then Simon's hand had twisted over the head of his cock just _so_ and Ryan had come, groaning Simon's name loud enough to be glad, once he was coherent enough to care about such things, that he lived in a house rather than an apartment, only vaguely aware when Simon followed.

They hadn't bothered with much of a cleanup - a cursory wipe with the tissues they kept by the bed had seemed adequate - and both Ryan and Simon had quickly fallen into an exhausted sleep.

Ryan pulled himself back into the present to ham up to Simon's teasing about not being invited out to the dinner - he wasn't actually bothered about it as he knew Mike pretty well, and the reason he hadn't been invited was that Mike knew his schedule - and as Simon charmed his audience, Ryan figured it was the perfect time to remind everyone that Simon had a 'girlfriend', which Simon totally ignored in favor of teasing him some more. Of course.

He managed to get through Simon's 'compliment' through sheer willpower, because Simon had moved on to randomly patting his chest and knee, and rubbing at his shoulder, and Ryan thought that he might go insane from all the contact. Plus, he knew some of their fanbase were going to be looking out for things like that, but also - more importantly - so did the show's producers.

Deciding that moving onto a safe topic sooner rather than later was probably a good idea, Ryan brought forward his question about Clive Davis. He half expected Simon to be brash about the whole thing, but when Simon answered his question about being intimidated by saying that he _liked_ it… Ryan didn’t think that Simon had realized what he’d just revealed – hoped that no-one at home or in the audience would either, because despite everything Simon was a very private person – but it was something that Ryan decided he would have to look into at some point in the future. 

The question about what Clive had been whispering, though, was one that Ryan had been dreading a little, so he was happy that he got to at least get this one out the way quickly. He’d added it in to wind Simon up, but he knew that with the mood Simon was in he’d probably push it further to try and get a reaction himself. Sure enough, Simon smirked at him and said that they had been ‘private moments’. Ryan knew that, fortunately, no-one in the audience would understand what Simon was referencing; no-one did, outside the two of them.

Sometimes, during the show, when Ryan was feeling particularly puckish and had to stand over at the judges’ table before or after a break, as soon as the cameras were off he would lean in to Simon’s space and whisper in his ear. Occasionally it was something work related, but usually… Usually it was the filthiest thing that he could think of at that point in time. He always prefaced it with something totally innocent, in case they’d forgotten to switch off the mics, but once he was sure it was safe he would mutter obscenities into Simon’s ear, while gently squeezing Simon’s shoulder, or his thigh, or lightly and unobtrusively stroking the nape of his neck. He had once spent a whole commercial break describing exactly how he was going to suck Simon off once the show had finished, right down to the last detail. And then, once the show was all over and he’d gotten cleaned up, he’d walked quickly down the hallway to Simon’s dressing room and done exactly what he’d promised to do. It drove him a little crazy, thinking about that when he had to be up on stage in front of millions of viewers, but it drove Simon crazier. 

The point was, Simon had started mockingly referring to them as ‘private moments’. And Simon bringing that up right now was clearly meant to drive Ryan totally insane, and ohgod was it ever working. 

He deliberately asked about Fantasia and the show in general straight away, to give himself something of a respite, which worked. Or, well, mostly. His next question, on how Simon would change the competition, garnered the expected response of ‘the host’, followed by some teasing about how Simon refused to make the mistake of saying anything, and a brief discussion on popular music. It was strange, but listening to Simon talk about what artists he liked and didn’t like, and _why_ \- if you paid attention to what he said, it was kinda obvious why he was so good at what he did. It wasn’t just that he had gut feelings about people, although that was a small part of it. It was that he could look at an act, listen to them, and see where he could make money on them. And he could judge the market with an amazing ratio of accuracy, which was the really astounding thing. Not for the first time, Ryan felt a glow of pride for having the chance to work with such talented, successful people in an industry that chewed up and spat out most people who tried to make a go of it.

That took them neatly up to the break, which Ryan took as an opportunity to tease Simon about his looks, causing the two of them to giggle together like little kids. As soon as they cut to commercial, Ryan saw his producer motioning for him to come over. He nodded, turning to Simon.

“Uh, Si, would you excuse me for just on second?” 

Simon nodded as much as he could as the make-up and hair people worked on him – Ryan hadn’t been kidding; they hadn’t had enough time to fix him up properly because he had arrived so late – and Ryan walked over to his producer.

“What’s up?”

The answering glare was enough to make him almost take a step back. “Are you kidding me with this shit, Ryan?”

He blinked. “Um. What?”

“I’m talking about your goddam inability to keep your hands off each other. You’re sitting so close to each other that you’re practically on his lap, and he’s got his hand on your knee pretty much constantly!” Crap. Ryan had hoped that no-one else had noticed. “When we go back on the air, you’re going to be sitting further apart, and you’re going to stop touching so much, alright?”

Ryan held up his hands in a gesture of surrender. “Alright; I’ll let Simon know. Just don’t expect him to listen to you.”

He turned on his heel and marched back towards the couch. He was pretty annoyed that the producer was ordering him around like that, but he understood why. And the bright side was that the whole conversation had killed his erection, so at least he wouldn’t have _that_ to worry about in the second part of the interview.

The make-up people were gone, and Simon was over by the audience signing autographs. Ryan bit back a smile. This was the little known side of Simon Cowell – the fact that he would often go out of his way to spend time with his fans just so they felt special. He walked over and laid a hand on Simon’s arm, smiling at the girl that Simon had just finished hugging. 

“Sorry, ladies, but I’m going to have to steal him away again. Got to talk about the show.” There was a chorus of ‘awww’s, which made Simon look smug, of course, but Ryan ignored them and dragged Simon back over to the couch.

“You didn’t have to do that, you know,” Simon murmured, still smiling at the audience. 

“No, I kinda did,” Ryan said quietly. “Look, my producer just called me over and said that we have to make sure we’re sitting further apart. Did you realize that you had your hand on my knee pretty much throughout that whole segment?”

Simon raised an eyebrow. “Yes.”

“Yeah, well, so did everyone else, apparently. Look, just…if we sit a few inches further apart after the break, no-one will notice and it’ll make the producers happy. Okay?”

Simon shrugged, rolling his eyes. “Whatever, darling. It’s your show.” He shuffled backwards on the couch, and Ryan felt the loss immediately. God, he was such a sap sometimes. “Better?”

“Much,” Ryan lied. He could see the director waving frantically at him out the corner of his eye, and nodded, putting his game face back on. “You ready?”

“Of course.”

He grabbed the phone and his cue card from the table, and then, as the director motioned at him from behind the camera, welcomed everyone back to the show, with ‘humble Cowell’. ‘Humble Cowell’ seemed to think this was the funniest name ever, and burst out laughing, which of course made Ryan laugh along with him. It wasn’t that often that he got to see Simon laugh like that, and it always made him smile because, well, he was ridiculous. He wasn’t in love – they had come a long way from real insults and dares involving mesh panties, but he refused to believe that his feelings could possibly run as deep as that – but he had a certain amount of affection for the old bastard. And when Simon said that he thought that Ryan wished he was on the show more often, he knew that his answer was just for show. Because even though he sort of hated the way Simon put it – “like a little Chihuahua who wants to hang out with the rottweiller” and “tail always wagging” – it was, well, true. Being around Simon did make him happy. It did make his metaphorical tail wag (and his other ‘tail’, of course, but the innuendo was too obvious even for Ryan’s liking). 

And from the looks Simon gave Ryan after they’d done their little ‘it’s not about you/me’ shtick, he wasn’t the only one who felt like that. Because for all that Simon might make Ryan’s tail wag, Ryan made Simon’s wag too. And Ryan kinda liked it that way.

But now it was time for the part he’d been dreading. The first question really was from a viewer – and the ‘do you really hate each other’ question once again made Simon laugh, because _if only they knew_ \- but the ones on the card were all him. Even the viewer question wasn’t safe, though, as Simon took it as an opportunity to paw at his chest. Simon mocking the t-shirt he had on was all for show, since Simon had actually said more than once that he liked that shirt on him, which was why Ryan was wearing it today, but it afforded him plenty of opportunity and excuses to put his hands all over Ryan. Which, Ryan supposed, was the point.

The questions on the card started out all right, with one about why Simon Fuller was the only one credited with creating the show, when Si had come up with some of the idea. Then one about the lifts he wore on his shoes, which Ryan had put in there purely to continue the saga of teasing Simon about being short. Simon seemed to misunderstand the question at first, which was ultimately hilarious, and Ryan put down to the whole American/English language divide. Then:

“Is it true you banned your girlfriend from the Playboy mansion?”

Simon’s incredulous look as he exclaimed, “Yes!” was comedy genius. Ryan tried, and failed, not to laugh in response. He knew why Terri wasn’t allowed to go there. Of course, she didn’t particularly want to – it wasn’t like she and Simon were all that serious. Simon didn’t do serious, which Ryan knew only too well. He decided to change tack.

“Are there any stories you remember from a night at the mansion?”

Simon’s answer worried him. “Where do you want me to start?”

“Well, we’re live. Just be careful what you tell.” he replied, a hint of warning in his tone.

“Well, they’re about you,” Simon smirked, and oh god, this was _exactly_ what Ryan had been afraid of. 

“I haven’t had any good stories there,” he said quickly, which was half true. Because Simon made it sound as though Simon had stories about Ryan with the bunnies, which he didn’t. That wasn’t why they went there. Oh, sure, it was fun – the girls were hot, and Ryan was a man who could definitely appreciate hot chicks. And not one of the bunnies had a sub-par rack, which was pretty awesome. 

But really, they went there because Hef was one of the few people who knew the real nature of their relationship, and was willing to cover for them. The last time they were there, Hef had closed off the grotto and told everyone it was because he was renovating it and it was dangerous for people to go inside. Except the renovations hadn’t started yet – all that had been done were the preparations – which Hef confided to them with a wink soon after they arrived. While everyone else was occupied at the party that night, Ryan and Simon had slipped under the barriers into the grotto. It was almost pitch dark inside, and the occasional light bouncing off the ripples in the water onto their bodies had made it seem almost eerie.

Simon had pushed Ryan up onto the side and stripped him of his wet shorts. They knew they only had a short time before they were missed, and although Hef would cover for them for as long as they needed, it only took one wrong move before rumors started. There was a container of lube and condoms in the grotto, of course – Hef was nothing if not considerate of the safety of both his guests and his girls – and it wasn’t long before Ryan was fucking himself onto Simon’s cock as they sank together into the water, the waves lapping around their hips. They kissed frantically as Ryan moved faster and faster, the feel of Simon inside him at that angle almost too much to bear, and it had only taken a few minutes before he was coming, hard, with Simon close behind. They had disposed of the condoms – the rule was no coming in the water without a condom on, and neither of them wanted to risk not being invited back because they broke the rules – and pulled their shorts back on, carefully making their way back outside without seeming suspicious. 

Simon brought him crashing back to the present with an arch, “Next question…”, and he smiled to himself as he asked the question about J-Lo’s house that he had seen in a few of the gossip blogs. Then:

“True you bought a Bentley convertible simply to be f-photographed in?”

He knew that Simon would get the implication, and he did. “Did you write these questions?”

“Of course not! These are just arbitrary!” Ryan protested weakly. Of course, he knew the answer to the question. He remembered the day that Simon showed him the pictures of the cars he was thinking about. When he pointed to the Bentley, he had leaned down and murmured in Ryan’s ear,

“I think it has to be this one. Do you see those seats? I want to see you naked in those seats. In fact, I think I want to drive you to some godforsaken deserted part of the country, strip you down, and fuck you in those seats. For hours.” When Ryan had protested about the mess on the leather upholstery, Simon had laughed. “That’s what blankets are for, Ryan.”

And he’d almost been as good as his word, except, as it turned out, Simon much preferred to be fucked against the seats himself. Two hours later, when they were finally spent, Ryan had peeled his sweat-sticky skin off the leather and laughed. Fucking Simon Cowell in a Bentley was not something he had imagined himself doing a few years ago, and yet there he was. It was almost too ridiculous to think about. But then Simon had smiled and reached up to stroke a bead of sweat off of his cheek, and Ryan leaned down to kiss him, and then he wasn’t really in the mood for laughing again for a while.

He was brought back to the present by Simon laying a hand on his chest for a moment. “Your heart’s beating; you wrote them,” Simon said, and Ryan couldn’t help the momentary heat in his gaze before he quashed it. 

“Well, is it true?”

“What do you think?”

“Yes! Alright, thank you very much,” he said quickly, talking over Simon’s protests and laughing. He shifted slightly so that their arms were touching as he pimped the show. Simon managed to give him a few soundbites about his favorites, Fantasia and Diana – and stroke Ryan’s knee a few times in the process – and then, thank god, it was over. They cut to a break and he hugged Simon quickly, since there was still the studio audience to consider after all, and waved as he walked out of the studio to whatever business meeting he had next. 

Ryan knew that he wasn’t going to see Simon alone until after the show tonight, which sucked, but maybe that was a good thing. It would give him time to plan how he was going to get back at Simon for teasing him throughout the whole of the interview. 

Oh, yeah. Revenge? Was going to be _fun_.


End file.
